The Extra's Rise - Chapter 658

Chapter 658: Masquerade Auction (5)
I watched through the mansion’s shattered windows as the Imperial strike force advanced with military precision, and couldn’t help but smile at how perfectly everything was unfolding. The sight of Cecilia and Lucifer leading the charge was exactly what I’d been waiting for—though admittedly, seeing them together sent a small spike of possessive irritation through me that I quickly suppressed.

This was different from the novel. In the original timeline, Cecilia and Lucifer had infiltrated the Masquerade Auction together as undercover operatives, playing the roles of wealthy collectors to gather intelligence from within. But now that Cecilia was mine—now that she cared more about protecting what belonged to her than following some predetermined script—she’d chosen a more direct approach.

Something delightfully, characteristically brash.

Like hitting the auction head-on with overwhelming firepower.

I had to admit, I preferred this version. Subtlety had its place, but there was something satisfying about watching thirty Imperial soldiers storm through the Red Chalice’s defenses like an unstoppable tide. The cultists’ carefully laid plans were crumbling in real time, their auction guests scattering in panic as magical barriers erupted throughout the mansion.

“Reika,” I said quietly, my voice carrying easily to her enhanced hearing despite the chaos around us, “which one of them can you handle?”

I gestured toward the two figures at the forefront of the attack. Cecilia was wreaking havoc with her spell weaving, crimson energy tearing through the mansion’s defensive wards like tissue paper. Her low Ascendant-rank power was on full display as she systematically dismantled every magical protection the Red Chalice had spent months constructing.

Beside her, Lucifer moved with the fluid grace of a master swordsman, his mid Ascendant-rank strength allowing him to carve through enemy combatants with almost casual efficiency. Ice and fire danced around his blade in perfect harmony, a demonstration of the Yin-Yang Body that made him so formidable.

Reika’s violet eyes assessed both targets with the analytical precision of a trained assassin, but I could see the hesitation in her posture. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a note of guilt that made my chest tighten.

“Master… if you wish for me to fight him, I would, but winning…” Her voice trailed off, and I could feel the weight of her perceived inadequacy settling over her like a shroud.

A soft smile tugged at my lips as I reached out to pat her head, my fingers threading through her silver hair with gentle affection. “Don’t worry,” I said, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “I would never ask you to do something impossible.”

The truth was, I’d never expected Reika to be able to defeat Lucifer in direct combat. There was a reason he was the protagonist of this world—his combination of raw talent, legendary bloodline, and plot armor made him nearly unbeatable in fair fights. Even for me, defeating the current version of Lucifer without revealing the full extent of my capabilities would be extremely difficult.

But that wasn’t what I needed her to do.

“Just distract Lucifer,” I whispered, my lips close enough to her ear that she shivered slightly. “Buy me time to deal with Cecilia. You don’t need to win—just keep him occupied.”

Reika nodded, her expression shifting from uncertainty to determined focus. “Understood, Master.”

Before she could move away, I caught her chin gently and tilted her face up toward mine. “Be careful,” I murmured, then leaned down to capture her lips in a quick but passionate kiss.

The contact was brief but electric, and when I pulled away, Reika’s face had flushed a beautiful shade of pink that made her violet eyes seem even more luminous. For a moment, she looked stunned, her usual composure completely scattered by the unexpected display of affection.

Then her expression hardened into the mask of a professional killer, and I was reminded that beneath her shy, devoted exterior lurked one of the most dangerous assassins in the world.

It was time for me to deal with my beloved Crown Princess.

___________________________________________

Cecilia’s breath caught as the well-dressed figure approached through the shadows. The ornate golden mask that concealed his features wasn’t what made her freeze—it was the suffocating weight of his presence pressing against her senses like a physical force.

‘He’s stronger than me.’ The realization sent ice through her veins.

Crimson mana ignited in her palm, casting dancing shadows across the walls. “I will—”

Her words died as his fist, wreathed in shifting gravity astral energy, materialized inches from her face with impossible speed.

Cecilia twisted desperately aside, the displaced air from his strike whistling past her ear. Her palm found his stomach in the same fluid motion, and she channeled her Witchcraft into a devastating seven-circle spell designed to obliterate his abdomen from within.

A killing blow.

His hand closed around her wrist with casual indifference.

The spell simply… ceased. Not dispelled, not countered—unmade, as if it had never existed.

Cecilia’s eyes widened in shock just before his other fist buried itself in her gut. The impact drove the air from her lungs and sent her skidding backward across the cobblestones.

‘Offset? No. Unraveled? Impossible.’ Her mind raced through possibilities as she struggled to breathe. ‘It’s a Gift. His supernatural ability can dismantle spells at the fundamental level.’

A grin spread across her face despite the pain radiating through her torso. “I’ll put more power in it this time.”

Cecilia embraced her Witchcraft fully. The crimson crown materialized above her head—a jagged circlet of concentrated chaos that marked the release of her complete power. Witchcraft, the Mind aspect Gift that bent reality to her chaotic will.

She began weaving multiple incantations simultaneously, her fingers dancing through complex patterns. Fire, ice, lightning, and spatial distortion—all tinged crimson by her Gift’s influence. These composite spells wouldn’t unravel so easily.

The masked man raised his hand with infuriating calm and began his own multicasting. Four perfectly formed spells took shape in the air, each one precisely calibrated to intercept hers.

The magical forces collided in a shower of sparks and dissipating energy. Cecilia stumbled back another step, sweat beading on her forehead.

At least I’m the superior spellcaster, she thought, already weaving the patterns for another seven-circle construct.

The man drew back his fist, but this strike was different. Two distinct layers of astral energy coiled around his knuckles, and between them, tiny motes of Deepdark energy pulsed like malevolent stars.

Cecilia’s blood turned to ice. Not because of the Deepdark manipulation—but because she knew this technique. She had seen it a thousand times before, practiced alongside its wielder, laughed as he showed off the intricate layering that was his signature.

No. It can’t be.

Her carefully crafted spell dissolved, forgotten, as the devastating realization crashed over her like a tidal wave.

Arthur.

The name echoed in her mind like a death knell. Her Arthur. Her partner. Her—

Betrayer.

Tears began streaming down her face, hot and bitter. All those missions together, all those quiet moments of trust, all those promises whispered in the dark—lies. Every single moment had been a lie.

She couldn’t fight him. She couldn’t face him. She couldn’t bear to look at that golden mask knowing who wore it.

Her gaze drifted upward to the precariously balanced debris hanging from the damaged building above. One precisely placed spell, one moment of catastrophic structural failure, and the pain would stop.

“I can’t…” she whispered, raising her trembling hands toward the weakened supports. “I can’t do this anymore.”

The seven-circle spell blazed to life, aimed at the weakened support beams overhead. Stone and steel began to groan ominously as her magic ate away at their structural integrity.

Through her blurred vision, she saw Arthur’s posture change. Panic flashed across his body language as he realized what she intended.

“Cecilia, no!”

He lunged forward, not to attack, but to tackle her away from the impact zone. But he was too late—the spell had already done its work. Tons of debris began their deadly descent, and there was nowhere to run.

So instead, he threw himself over her, his broader frame shielding her from the crushing weight above.

The impact was thunderous. Dust and fragments rained down around them as his arms encircled her, his broader frame taking the brunt of the collapse. She felt his body jerk with each strike, heard his ragged breathing against her ear.

Something cracked—not stone, but delicate metal.

The golden mask split down the middle and clattered to the ground in pieces.

Cecilia stared up into familiar features. Sandy brown hair, kind eyes now filled with pain, a face she had trusted above all others.

“Arthur?”

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand betrayals.

“Why?” The single word broke from her lips like a sob. “Why did you—how could you betray me?”